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Backroad Signs (Brenna Alyssa Mahn - New Orleans, LA)


 

Crab traps for sale, prepare to meet thy god. 

Strange how the signs yell at you when you have the shit luck of driving down Shattuck road. I called the number, there was a moment of silence before the answering machine message played, his voice dripping with sweat. The air gets sticky but I’m languidly unmoving to turn the air back on. My mind wanders to the golfers of Green Hill Acres who never took shelter while our swim practices were on hold from the storms. The audacitimendacity of carrying a portable lightning pole. Do they think they are as immune from nature as from taxes? 

Staring out the window as it gathers droplets of condensation out of my breath, I see a deer carcass melting in the ditch, skin dripping over bones reminds me of old candles with a thick layer of dust clinging to the wax. Up ahead there is a sunbleached teal fiberglass pool lining propped up as a billboard advertising in blood red letters: pleasurepoolsinc.com 1-800-660-000.

I remember Pricy Womble and wonder if she was happy with her RV purchase. I hope she is happy.

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